#fear blurbs

[fearyandear]

Toxic Tsundere Yandere Childhood Friend Blurb

A friend got me into a childhood friend kick.

Thinking about tsundere yandere best friend who realized in middleschool how toxic his dependance on you was so he tried to put distance between you both by getting mad at you for following him and insisting on sitting separately. It lasted a week before he saw you laughing with new friends and he couldn't take it, he scooped you back up. After lots of fights and him repeating the cycle of pushing you away then pulling you forcefully back in, you felt you got the hang of it and domt take his harshness as personal anymore.

"I told you to stop asking me to be your partner for projects! You need to branch out more!!'

'Shut up. You know I won't.'

'... what are you gonna do when I'm not around, fucking christ.'

'I'll decide what to do then. But for now, you're here, and you're my best option. You'll always be my best option.'

'... you're gonna regret saying that one day.'

'I doubt it cuz it's true.'

You keep sitting next to him, you keep following him, you keep making friends with him by your side, hand in hand, because despite his protests, you know that's what he wants.

It's really getting to his head. He feels so good, and so GUILTY.

Once highschool comes, his tactics turn more vicious and volatile.

He's gonna insult you at school in front of everyone at any given chance, embarrassing you a lot of the time. Then, he'll turn around and do stuff you've never done before like 'granting you permission' to sit on his lap for the pep rally, his arms not letting you go even when a teacher almost notices. You've told him off countless times, but it's like talking to a wall. Arguments always end with 'So what then? Are you sick of me?'

You aren't. You can't be. He's your best friend. Every time, he has to hide his grin.

He's found a loophole to keep you close and still be able to tell himself that he tried getting you away. Deep down, he knows you won't leave him.

You're stuck.

[crsssie]

down the neck - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff, glancing through the scope at the unsub.

"Well, I have to lay low too, no?" Spencer frowns.

"It doesn't matter." You squint, humming. "Hit the button and ask Hotch if I can shoot. Be fast."

"Hotch, we have a clear shot."

"I have a clear shot."

"Snippy—"

"Fire."

You click your tongue, pulling the trigger once to hit the unsub's hand and a second to snipe the gun out of range as Morgan flies into the place. You watch through the scope as Spencer looks through the binoculars, and you only start to sit up when you see Morgan pull the unsub out. Then, you actually sit up and start packing up.

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff.

"You weren't complaining when I—"

You hold a finger to your lips, pointing at your earpiece as Spencer blinks, laughing when you hear a cough in your ears from Hotch.

"Sorry."

"Need I remind you both of—"

"Nope." You puff out your cheeks, slinging the gun around to your back as Spencer raises a brow. "Actually, I think Reid needs a quick reminder. He'd love to go through another HR meeting about how we shouldn't be fraternizing with—"

"We're good, Hotch." Spencer cuts you off, rolling his eyes at you. "We'll see you back at the station."

"You're driving." You mumble, turning off your mic. "Two dollars and I'll drive. Four dollars and I'll make a stop at McDonalds."

"And for five?"

"I'll sneak in a kiss plus everything else."

"I think that can be arranged." He hums, pulling out a five as you press your lips to his, tongue swiping over your bottom lips as he chases when you pull away. You stick your tongue out teasingly as you take the five, craning your neck so that his lips would hit your neck instead. "Hey."

"I'll drop a ten if you—"

"Reid."

You laugh as Spencer jolts straight, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sound of Hotch.

"Turn off your mic next time."

"Roger that, sir."

You're too busy laughing the rest of the way back to be able to drive. (but spencer has no complaints when you hand him back the five with a chaste kiss to his lips).

[stellamarielu]

summary: cock warming with joel late at night when you’re both craving each other, all tired and cozy underneath the sheets.

author’s note: not entirely sure what this is but i wrote it because joel miller lives rent free inside my brain

beware smut ahead! mdni!

it would start with your body all cuddled into his, your back against his chest with his arm draped over your waist.

you were slowly coaxed out of your peaceful slumber by the feeling of joel's thumb rubbing small circles into the skin of your stomach. your shirt had bunched up exposing your midriff and allowing him to slide his hand underneath the material.

you’d scoot back just an inch so that your bodies were pressed even closer together, your backside making contact with the bulge in his pants. you made it a point to grind against him, savoring the sounds of his shallow breath and the way his body melted even further into yours.

in a lazy sleep induced haze the two of you would be shedding clothes and relishing in the warmth of each other; flesh pressing against flesh as joel lined himself up with your center. no words were spoken yet you both understood the shared desperation in your actions, needing to be close, enveloped in one another.

the only sound coming from either of you was the groan slipping past joel’s lips as he felt the slick warm invitation of your walls while he stretched you with just his tip. he was slow and deliberate, filling you inch by inch with his hand cradled around your body holding you gently against him.

you let out a blissful hum when he filled you completely, the sound of your satisfaction muffled by your pillow.

he stayed there– pushed into you to the hilt and holding you tightly, your body fitting snuggly into his.

he took a minute to soak in the tenderness of the moment; how soft you felt pressed against him. the intimacy of being wrapped up in each other. all of it was so comforting it had him pushing himself deeper into you, hungry to be closer.

"what happened to a good night's rest?" your voice was groggy, filled with sleep and pleasure.

you were reminiscing on joel’s words spoken just hours ago when the two of you were winding down for the night. both of you exhausted, seeking the comfort of your shared bed and full night of sleep.

"you can go back to sleep sweetheart." he was leaning further into you as he whispered the words, placing a soft kiss behind your ear.

"just wanted to be close that's all." his voice vibrated into the crook of your neck with his face buried in your shoulder.

"don't think i’m gonna be able to sleep now." you were confessing as your hand slid up to find his hair, running your fingers through it and causing a sigh to escape from his lips.

it was as if you were half asleep but unable to deny the solace of connection. you were completely devoted to one another, wholly seized by the comfort and desire constantly shared between you.

"that right?" his voice had a tired rasp to it, the low gravely sound causing you to involuntarily clench around him.

the way you were hugging his cock had his grip on your waist tightening just enough to pull you back further, sinking himself even deeper into you. the sensation had a whimper bubbling in your throat and your fingers curling into his hair.

"need somethin' to help you sleep?" another rhetorical question rolled off his tongue as he finally moved inside of you. the slow gratification of his thrusts more fulfilling than any amount of sleep.

[sleyu]

in regards to perv!marauders . . . theyd so get off on the more innocent pics of you— it could be a polaroid of you smiling and it’d be covered in cum by the end of the summer bcos your innocence is so hot to them

i am losing my mind at the thought of this. the mere thought of corrupting you torments perv!marauders and something about the contrast of their filth paired with your seemingly pure disposition makes their cock throb.

the photo usually always comprises you beaming, presumably looking up at them through the camera, batting your eyelashes prettily, looking so radiant and cute. i can picture a photo of you leaning against their palm, their large hands caressing your cheek while you peer up at them. maybe it’s that sleepy look of yours; maybe it’s your flushed face or your puffy, watery eyes; or perhaps it’s the gloss on your lips that makes you look so girly and kissable that has them groaning into their pillow as they fist their aching cock late into the night, feverish and frantic to cum to the sight of you.

it's not only your innocence that gets them off, but it's the thought of ruining it that drives them to the edge. all of them would repeatedly fantasize about making you just as desperate as they are for you. they want nothing more than for you to look up at them—a betrayed, foggy look in your lust-filled eyes—begging them to take you again because three rounds simply aren’t enough and you're far too addicted to their cocks stretching out your ruined cunt to stop.

[ruinix]

hi i’m just here to drop in and mention how bad Quinn wants to leave marks on your body. he doesn’t care where or how he just needs to see him on you at all times ya know?

Halloo, love, my lovely moot😚. I’m sorry it took me long. I blame my two braincells. They got distracted. [Also... i totally didnt try to repost this (i did, but it didnt happen...😭 sorry)] Here it is...ummm.... i think i have veered off in a different path. Sorry...🧎🏻‍♀️

CW/TW: 18+ MDNI, Smut or smut(ish), Sloppy kisses and Marking, Slightest bit of choking, Quinn being a love sick fool 🙂‍↔️

Count: 1449 words | Masterlist

One. Two. Three. Hmmm, that’s not right. Quinn swears he left you four marks on your neck…Why the fuck are you bundled up after all the hard work he did?

He could feel his irritation bubble up his throat, but he swallows it down—crossing his arms, eyebrows drawn—as he tracks your movement across the apartment. You’re doing miscellaneous cleaning, dusting here and there, dancing along with whatever music blasting in your headphones.

You look cute, really. Pretty and cozy in your matching sweatpants and your crewneck sweater. The colors are soft and makes your skin glow. The fit is oversized. You demanded that size when you got him to buy it—he bought five sets for you, because you rarely request something. You are even wearing your comfy and grippy socks. Adorable, really. Really—Fuck. What the fuck? Are you covering him—his marks—up? Didn’t you say you love them last night?

Before he could spiral, you finally notice him. Whatever complaints he has disintegrated to nothing. Your smile with the twinkle in your eyes takes his breath away. When you squeal and run towards him, his arms instantly drop, spreading to give in your hug. You smell like fresh laundry. Home. You smell like home. His home.

Quinn melts into your touch, head dipping where your neck and shoulders meet. His eyes dart from one mark after the other. Where is the other one?

 “Quinn, you’re home! How’s your day? How’s practice?” you ramble on, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“All good. I had fun,” he murmurs, slightly parting from you. “How’s yours?”

You happily recount your day—cleaning, work, watching a show, taking a good and satisfying bath. Quinn guesses that this day is for a nonlinear storytelling, which he has no complaints about. He could get lost in your voice, that’s like the soft patters of rain, like the soft breeze in summer, like the rustle of leaves, like soft chirps of birds. Your voice is like every calming tune of nature. Soothing. Nurturing. That’s what you do to his soul.

Mix that with how firmly your arms are wrapped around his torso, hands slipping into his shirt. They smoothen over his muscles, tracing his spine, causing shivers to run down his fucking soul. Oh, the effect you have on him, but that doesn’t appease him as it usually does. Not one bit—fine, maybe just slightly—because where the fuck is it?

While you talk about a grocery list, Quinn carefully rubs your arms and your shoulders. When he thumbs the column of your neck, you instantly pause, shuddering, breaths picking up. You look at him with wide eyes. The blush staining your cheeks deepens. Cute.

Quinn slips his thumb into your collar and tugs. He almost gets distracted with the goosebumps on your skin. Almost. Because there it is. The fourth mark. It’s just hiding under the edge. Still red and purple, the same shade as the other three. Still so beautiful on your skin. So fucking beautiful.

“Quinn?” you call, confusion etched in your face. “Did I lose you?”

Lose him? Never. You will never lose him. You’re stuck with him. He will chase you no matter where you go, stand beside you, hold your hands every step of the way.

You know that, but you’re still pouting. As second ticks, your confusion turns into annoyance. Your eyebrows furrow. You’re such a brat sometimes. It makes him want to kiss you, so he does. Your arms hook over his nape. The way your lips instantly part sends blood rushing down his groin. You’re always so eager, parting your thighs for his leg to step between.

“You ignored me,” you murmur, nipping at his lip. “You can’t ignore me.”

Fuck. That feels good.

“Not ignoring you. I heard everything you said,” Quinn whispers back in between kisses. “You know that, brat.”

He feels your smile, hears your giggle. He’s so fucked. Even that turns him on. With how your eyes shine, you know you had him in a chokehold. Well, he can have you in a chokehold too. Literally. So, he gives your neck a squeeze. A small whimper comes out your lips.

“Quinn.”

Your name spills out from his lips as a response.

You moan like he’s already fucking you, grinding your clothed cunt over his thigh. He pushes it up, letting you take all the friction you want.

When he goes for another kiss, your lips are already parted, tongue out, waiting for his. You beautiful siren. Quinn can’t hold in his growl as he meets it.

The kiss is sloppy, messy, and hungry. Your spits mixing. Your tongues lashing. Your teeth bumping and nipping each other’s lips. So different from the first one just a while ago. So different, yet utterly the same—full of love, lust, and devotion. So fucking good.

Quinn grinds his hard-on against you, raising his thigh to help you chase your high, but he stops. Not yet. You can’t come just yet. Your whines fill his ears as he parts from you. Tears threaten to spill as you try, try, and fucking try to get him to kiss you again. To get him to let you ride his thigh again. To get him to fuck himself on you.

You have to wait.

“Maybe,” he mutters against your lips, almost laughing when your tongue darts out to gaud him for another kiss. Little seductress. Quinn impatiently tugs on your sweatshirt. “Maybe you should get rid of this, yeah?”

He nearly preens when you nod—desperately and utterly wrecked. His hands shake as he helps you pull it off.

Fuck. You’re just wearing an almost-sheer crop top underneath. Your nipples are already taut, begging for him to touch, to kiss, to suck. Your low neckline showcases your beautiful skin littered with different shades of kiss marks. Some are old. Some are new. All his.

Yet. Not. Enough.

Not when there are still lots of blank spaces of skin to mark. Not when many of them are already fading. Not when you can still hide them. He doubts it will ever be enough. He just needs him on you.

His kiss marks.

Different from cum and spit which you—or he, depending on your mood—wash away.

Different from the occasional fingerprint bruises he leaves on your hips and thighs from holding you so tightly as he fucked you until you couldn’t stop cumming, until he’s left with watery cum or with nothing because your sweet pussy already sucked him dry.

Different because it shows the whole world how he worshipped you, your skin, your being.

Different but they always come one after another. He can’t have you all marked up with your pussy unsatisfied, can he? No. That’s not possible. An offence that he would rather die than commit.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes, grazing his knuckles over your ribs. His other hand tenderly holds our hips, keeping them pressed against his, not letting you do anything else. “So pretty.”

He nearly chokes on those words. He relishes the feel of your hands on his shoulders, fingers casually tugging the tips of his hair—a demand for him to stop fucking around.

Well, can you blame him for taking his time? He just loves you so much.

Then, your little tugs turn more desperate, fingers wrapping around his locks. You tug on his hair like you want to rip it off, but you would ease and scratch his scalp effectively seducing him.

But first, he needs to remedy his problem. He grips your arms, holding them against the wall, as he partakes on your skin. The way you surrender—when he starts sucking and adding marks on your neck, even craning it to give him more access—almost made him fall to his knees. Oh, he is essentially on his knees, because you are his love, his law, his Goddess. He is always kneeling for you. His existence is nothing without you now. He can only beg that you always be with him—of course, he will ensure that.

But he can’t be on his knees right now. How can he reach your neck then? How can he hold you up when you are melting with every suck and lick and kiss then?

Later, he can be on his knees. Later, when he needs to mark up your belly, your hips, your thighs, the creases between them that leads to your pussy, and your beautiful fucking ass. Later.

Right now, he needs to mark up your neck to show everyone—honestly, just him, fuck everyone else—that you are his and his alone.

[melodiesz]

Shooting practice with Jason ⭑

( -_•)︻デ═一 pow ! ✮⋆˙

“are you even trying?” He asks with an unimpressed look. When you continue to fumble with the gun (possibly on purpose), he groans and takes matters into his own hands.

“No- here, like this.” He grabs your hands and positions them on the pistol, adjusting your fingers and correcting the way you held your arms out with clear experience.

He nudged your legs into proper position, grabbing your waist and guiding you to a slight angle.

It was an innocent action but your face is burning. When you try to take the shot again all you can think of is the lingering feeling of his scarred hands on your waist and you miss completely, hands shaking far too much to hit a proper shot.

You frown in embarrassment at being so easily distracted, but before you can think on it too much he comes up behind you, placing his hands over yours and raising your arms. His face is close enough that you can hear his warm voice right next to your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Come on, keep trying. I know you can do it,” he encourages with a smile. He’s just being a helpful friend, trying to teach you how to properly defend yourself, and here you are thinking of how good he sounds humming encouragements into your ear.

You’re glad he’s behind you so he can’t spot how red your face is turning. You take a second to prepare yourself or you just want to feel his hands on yours a little longer and with a deep breath you take the shot, hitting the target dead centre.

His grin widens. “See? you’re a natural!” He boasts dramatically and steps back, and your expression dips at the loss of contact. “now try it without my help,” he asks.

You get back into proper stance and aim perfectly, stance corrected and shoulders back, but when the moment comes, you miss again, mind utterly clouded.

He raises an eyebrow. “You can’t be this bad,” he jokes. “something got you distracted?” He steps to face you now and immediately notices your flushed expression.

He may be a little dense when it comes to romantics, but he’s not an idiot. Rather than tease you he just smiles reassuringly and covers your hand in his again, reaching his left one to rest softly on your waist.

He’s pressed against your back now and you want to squeal at the way his body basically covers yours completely. He rests his chin on your shoulder, eyeing you calmly like you weren’t on the brink of imploding. His voice is soft, like a whisper in your ear when he urges, “do it for me, yeah?”

And you do, abiding without a second thought and pressing down on the trigger. The hand on your waist is trailing down to your hip and tracing patterns on it, like he was trying to distract you. Yet somehow, you manage to make a good shot.

You’re still red in the face when just like that he backs away, smiling innocently again like nothing happened. You gawk at him and he just laughs and walks away, throwing out a quick: “told you.”

[houseofpsychoticwomxn]

♱ 18+ smut !! ♱

thinking about smoking with simon while u ride him ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ

♱⋰ ⋱✮ he’s convinced he’s corrupted you, turned you into some ‘cockdrunk stoner’, shaking his head at your insistent whines in his annoyingly clothed lap.

“you can’t get what you want all the fuckin’ time.” he griped, stilling your hips that seemed to have a mind of their own. of course he was a hypocrite, still-lit blunt gripped between his fingers pressing into your sides.

“why not?” you pouted, using the hands planted on his chest to lift yourself up and back down again, intent on torturing him just as much as he was you. he could be mean — deny you completely just so you’d really beg him for it, even make you get yourself off on his thigh without any help while he watches, but he couldn’t deny the effect you had on him; currently prevalent in his tightening jeans. he took another drag before grabbing your jaw, exhaling warm smoke into your mouth as your eyes closed.

soon enough you’re grinding on his dick — just lazily rocking your hips while he watches you. you take the blunt from his hand before he gets ash all over the couch, turning it towards him after tapping it against the glass tray on the table next to you, holding it for him so he can keep his hands gripped tight on your waist. your pace only gets more lax as you get higher, a loud smack to your ass reopening your eyes for you.

“c’mon ride it like you mean it. attagirl.”

˚₊‧꒰𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒱ ‧₊˚

[rotapathetic]

DAVID MCCALL ♰ right turn ྀ

david knowing how to get to your place without asking ㅤ⁝ㅤ⋰

he was already parked in front of your school by the time you walked out of the doors. huh. right on time. you hugged your friends a see you later, one of your guy friends playfully shoving you. you shook your head, giggling. walking up to david’s car, you saw how tense his jaw was set. you frowned, getting in the passenger seat.

“you alright? what’s wrong?” but david wasn’t looking at you, rather over your shoulder to your friends. it clicked for you, “um . . that’s just one of my friends. we joke like that, he didn’t hurt me.”

david shrugged, “hurt you or not, he touched you. that hurts me,” a feeling of warmth spread through you at his words. what david didn’t say aloud is that him hurting your friend would complete the circle.

“it’s fine, really. just kinda wanna go home . . tired,” you changed the subject. you and david hadn’t been dating long, this whole relationship thing new to you. so new you didn’t think to give david directions.

“how was your day?” you sparked up conversation. you weren’t sure yet what he does in his spare time. the things he likes to do, his interests, “hung with my friends, watched a film, then sat here watching for you.”

you giggled, “waiting, you mean? there’s nothing to watch out here,” you were sure he misused his words. but he didn’t, david watched over you more times than you knew. lurking, making sure you weren’t in danger. it was why he wasn’t there on time, but there for a while.

when he didn’t respond, you went quiet, looking out of the window. he made two more turns when you realized you hadn’t told him your address. you went to tell him then, but then the streets started to look familiar.

“oh, i didn’t give you directions . . i know this street, it’s the one right up my place . . ” your words trailed off as david pulled up to your front door.

that’s normal right? for a boyfriend to know where you live? you didn’t know how he found out, but it had to be normal, “that’s funny, how’d you know where i stay? were you watching me?” you attempted a joke at his previous words.

when david slowly turned to you, the humor you felt dissipated, replaced with something else, “if i told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

you were caught off guard by his words, nervously giggling, “i guess i wouldn’t, huh?” david didn’t respond.

“well um . . thanks for the ride. i’ll see you?” you went to leave the car when david grabbed your head, pulling you in for a kiss. you gasped, not expecting the aggression. he pulled away, staring at you for a moment, “you won’t, i will,” he smirked.

you realized the joke quickly, smiling. him watching you was now an ongoing joke between you two, you thought. only funny for one of you.

[puckinghischier]

celebrating quinn tonight back home in michigan with sweet, soft sex. him muttering “i love yous” in your ear, you repeating them and telling him how proud of him you are

you were surprised when he wanted to go slow tonight, despite how high energy the game was and how riled up he seemed. but the second you tried to speed things up, begging him to go harder and faster, he shushed you and kept his slow, agonizing pace.

“wanna take m’time with you tonight, sweet girl. savor you for as long as i can,” he whispers in your ear, his slow, languid thrusts making you squirm.

he’s torturing you in the best way, driving you further into blissed out oblivion with each drag of his cock in and out of you. “whatever you want, q. so proud of you. did so good, played so well tonight,” you sigh out, pushing his solid body further into yours.

the praises make his dick twitch, causing his pace to falter only slightly before finding his slow rhythm again. “love you so much, y’know that?” his lips drag slowly across your ear.

“love you too, quinn. so much. always. love you almost as much as i am proud of you. my record breaking captain,” you throw in the title for good measure, sneakily trying to get your way.

he groans lowly right into your ear, biting down onto your shoulder. “so, so, so proud,” you repeat, feeling his resolve slipping.

“not gonna work, m’enjoying this too much,” he grits out, willing himself to slow down once again. “nice try though, still love you. love you enough to reward you all night long after this,” he chuckles into your ear, sliding his hand up your arm to intertwine your fingers above your head as your breath hitches, moaning at the endless possibilities.

[fearyandear]

I just got out of the shower with a sad idea.

Boyfriend's Ghost (TW: Suicide Ideation)

VN where you're haunted by the ghost of your boyfriend who keeps you from moving on.

At first, he tries to make the best of it by cracking jokes, enjoying that you're both stuck linked together, helping you with stuff. But the more time passes, he sees the possibility of you moving on just fine without him and it causes him to spiral. He's overprotective, smothering, jealous and depressed. He feels like he's running out of options and it's inevitable that he's going to lose you....

Unless...

He starts trying to convince you in any way to consider... coming with him. Little by little, it gets more and more dangerous as he'll eventually stop asking and start demanding.

[outofthebluess]

𝜗𝜚 we can run away to the walls inside your house .ᐟ

currently playing ❛ sailor song ❜ in which: ❛ without much of a family of your own, you take to spending time with percy's family; sally finding a bit of her younger self in you. ❜

─────────────────────

pairing: ❛ percy jackson x fem!reader ❜ warnings: ❛ use of y/n, not super well written, very short, old people being nostalgic ❜

─────────────────────

"how do you already have flour on your face? we haven't even done anything yet." you smile to yourself as you tug on your sleeve, bringing the fabric to percy's cheek.

"when i pulled it down from the shelf it spilled a bit..." he leaned into your touch, his cheeks warm despite the cool weather.

as time passed and sally watched her son annoy the living hell out of you by messing up the recipe, she laughed to herself. paul turned his head to the woman sitting next to him. you and percy's laughs heard in the almost quiet distance. he'd give her a knowing look, prompting the 'what is it?' that left his mouth.

"she just reminds me so much of myself... that poor girl has no idea what shes getting herself into."

"are you making fun of your own son?"

sally tilted her head, her eyes meeting paul's, "no, i'm simply saying that if his father was such a handful imagine what she puts up with."

paul nodded, glancing back and forth between her and the pair throwing flour around the kitchen. "i doubt she minds, i mean look at her."

before you could get the chance to toss another fist of flour at him percy places one hand around your wrist, his eyes narrowing before letting your hand go. you regretfully place the powder back into the bag.

he places a finger through the belt loop of your jeans turning you slightly so you face him. percy wipes all the flour away from your face, trying to avoid the boring eyes of his parents. you tried hard to keep down the smile that tried to slip it's way onto your lips. you failed miserably.

"there she is..." his voice is soft, like every word he spoke was a secret just between the two of you. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before beginning to actually clean up.

paul looked back to his wife with a smile. "i think she'll be alright."

─────────────────────

. . .

A LETTER FROM LAY! guess who hit 111 followers! i've never done a follower event before but i do want to do one, so give me some time and i'll think of something!

this is super short but i fear it's been sitting unfinished in my drafts forever and i wanted it posted :)

[funger-rips]

Fear and Hunger: Termina - Ending Graphic (Full train and Backgrounds + Sprites)

Details about this rip are below cut.

The version train background used in this post is a specific variant of the background that is only partly found in the files. See below for the other versions found in the files.

"train.rpgmvp", which is found in the "battlebacks2" folder. It is used as the background for fights in the train. (left)

"train_ending.rpgmvp", which is found in the "pictures" folder. It is used as the background in the ending graphic, as seen above the cut. (middle)

"train - Copy.rpgmvp", which is found in the "battlebacks2" folder. It is a slightly shifted version of train.rpgmvp, though only in the black border area. I am unsure where this is used in-game, if anywhere. (right)

Also to note, the background image used above the cut is slightly revised. You may notice the subtle but sizeable brown coloring in the bottom left of the images below the cut, where Henryk and Abella would stand. For some reason, this coloring is only visible in the ending graphic sometimes, but not always.

I am not sure what triggers either version, though both variants are visible in-game. The version without the brown coloring is not specifically present in the files, implying that some sort of effect or a secondary image is overlaid on top (speculation).

For the sake of appeal, I have posted the "cleaner" version without the brown coloring above the cut. All the images below the cut are uncropped and unedited from the files.

The sprites of the individual characters are also unedited and exactly from the files.

(Thanks for reading if you actually got this far!)

[fearyandear]

This is the project I've been working on in the side 👉 👈 Still in its conceptualization stages for now but I thought I might as well put it out there

Welcome to Proved Loveless in Death

An Interactive Tumblr Poll game where you choose who's your favorite... and who dies <3

Basic Idea: You are the poor victim of the Court of Fey, targeted with a spell called 'Rose Tint' that makes you able to see choices and decide on what path fate will take in the name of madness and love.

I'll post snippets of backstory and character designs and then write chapters of the story with a poll in the end of updates every once in a while, having votes for how things will proceed. Scuffles and ultimatums, life and death. You've made quite a lot of boys devoted to you throughout your life. Now, years later, see how far the fay's corruption and lovesickness twists their actions through this game.

TW for horror with gore, maiming, psychological abuse, gaslighting, and dub/noncon.

You are trapped having to see the sweet memories and friendships you shared turn into red splatters of blood. The versions of them you remembered, marred forever by how sick and twisted they became as soon as your friends realized this was a competition. You are the prize.

Whoever comes out of it will be your fated lover, and own your heart whole-y (along with getting some compensation from the Fey for the good show of course).

Choose wisely.

Short Profiles and Concept Art of the Friends You've Gathered Throughout the Years:

Cassius (5-10): Violent, protective, entitled.

You were next door neighbors as kids. He played pranks on you at first but would get mad at others and hit them if they tried to do the same. Although you thought he hated you because of how mean he was sometimes, he would not stop hanging around you instead of going home.

After you heard yelling and shattering from his home, you'd let him slip inside your house in secret too. You really became his security blanket, and he eased up on the teasing. But he'd be mean again if you ever tried partnering with anyone other than him.

When you had to move, he bullied you into promising you'd marry him. You eventually relented as you saw him cry for the first time. He's taken this oath way too much to heart and has been doing his best to become someone reliable and strong for you.

Even years later, he can't stay interested in anyone because of how strongly he clings to the fantasy of you. That his goal has only ever been to become someone you could be proud of. He feels like it's a betrayal to let you go.

So he starts chasing after your trail.

Ami (10-13): Girly, manipulative, spoiled.

You came to his school as he was getting retribution for bullying his classmates. He had been snide, unsympathetic, and cruel to them, toying with everyone's emotions. Finally, his classmates snapped, and he found out how powerless he could be against a mod. He started getting bullied himself. He had been so sure the adults would help, but there was no response from his teachers, and his parents never noticed. He felt alone for the first time in his life.

He was at his lowest, accepting his fate, and you saved him without having context to the full story. You became his his knight in shining armor; the person that proved to him again that he had value. He clung to you.

With new resolve, he rebuilt himself. He regained his confidence, and began living two-facedly, as he promised himself you'd never know about his mean side. He kept finding ways to shut anyone who tried talking to you about his past... then, because of his overzealousness, he threatened ANYONE who even tried befriending you too.

He couldn't trust them with you. You were *his*friend; his person to play with, spoil and adore... Up until you had to move far away. Again.

He was distraught and tried so hard to convince you to run away, to hide in his house. He'd take care of you! Of course, you couldn't. It was just a dumb, kiddish fantasy. But even now, years later, as his life went on without you, he keeps revisiting the possibility whenever he misses you.

He's made an enemy out of everyone. No one else has treated him as kindly and as sincerely as you. No one is meant for him like you are. He can't let you go.

He just can't.

Ragnar (13-16): Depressed, asocial, cold.

His mom passed away and his dad moved them to another state. He fell into a deep depression and started having bad, bad thoughts. You were both new to school.

You clung to him because of this; after relying so much on only Ami previously, you were so unsure of how to make friends again that you were terrified. Ragnar was initially disgusted being smothered with attention, he just wanted to be left alone and not care about anything. It was sad, but your classmates started seeing you both in negative ways, and it furthered a divide between you both and them. All the more reason for him him to feel overwhelmed by you. You and your manner of being probing, kind, funny, and so... persistent. He thought he hated you.

But then you got sick and had to miss a few days of school. Getting his wish, being alone all school day and at home, Ragnar realized it was the opposite. He'd unfortunately gotten attached to you.

And he was looking forward to seeing you again.

When you came back, to your shock, he slowly started clinging back. e kept making up reasons as to why in his head. You came to him first anyways, so this much attention was fine, right? And... making sure you weren't be allowed to get close to anyone else was also okay... because it's not like anyone would be able to understand you the way he does.

He began monopolizing you. Everyone in the school was such a fake, you needed someone loyal to look out for you. That could only be him. He was always by your side, ready to give you anything and to keep everyone away. Slipping up on his undiscovered true emotions and telling you at random sometimes, poetic stuff about how much you mean to him and how you two were made to make each other happy.

He was always sweet to you.

When you told him you had to move again, he took it really hard, as if you were the one deciding to leave him. You'd made him want to live again and just took that hope away. He became cold and detached the following weeks, it made you both depressed up until your last day when he was finally to the point of breaking down. He ran to your house, knocked, and hugged you tightly, crying. He didn't say anything as he handed you an envelope and ran away. It said 'Don’t open until we meet again.' You've been obedient.

He knows it's stupid but... he still clings to you as the light in his life that he needs to get back. His life is yours, and yours is his.

Varrik (16-18): Top student, smart, diligent.

You met him in the later years of highschool as all the pressure put on him being on top was beginning to make him break his charming persona. After moving so much, you'd become tired of trying to keep friendships and were settling into being a loner. But, you caught him having an anxiety attack in an empty classroom and helped calm him down.

Because you were new, Varrik let his guard down and felt like he could open up for the first time in years. You didn’t have a preconceived idea of him. You didn't care. It was freeing. After he was done, you tried giving him reassurance, but he lied about being busy and fled the room. Embarassment caught up to him, but when nothing came of his vent session, he started to relax again.

And the prospect of talking to you started to excite him. Ever since, he'd keep an eye on you, and sometimes, when he caught you alone afterschool, he'd linger just a bit around you, hoping you'd find some reason to talk to him. You fell right into your curiosity everytime and would ask him how he felt. Getting to talk to you in private like that would make his day.

It meant the world to him to be able to have someone understand him. In return, he realized your grades could be better and decided for himself to help you by hosting a lot of study (date) sessions. Also in private.

He knew how much of a loner you were, and that talking to him during school could open you up to other friendships... but he liked things as they were already. You were always available and a little expectant about you activities with him. It was cute.

He tried keeping your meetings a secret for thsoe years, but eventually, someone noticed. To combat this, he readily convinced them that he was set up by teachers to be your tutor in private because you had poor behavior that had to be monitored. He made a convincing story about the real reason you never socialized and always kept to yourself. No one doubted someone as reputable and kind as him.

He got his wish. No one else talked to you, and honestly, you couldn't be bothered to realize what had gone on. Now he never had to worry... but just to be safe, he started moving these (dates) sessions to other places. Like cafes, libraries, the park, his home... You were so close outside of school... even hanging out during the breaks. Giving gifts in secret. He was so happy... he wanted to stay that way.

Come senior year, he had a plan. He'd push you to go to the same, elite college as him. He really did his best to monopolize your time and energy into it with extra tutoring, volunteering, and scholarship hunting. He was picturing a future that HAD include you.

Finally, letters were sent and… You weren't accepted.

He was.

It broke his heart more than it did yours. He-He had to go, he couldn't just… not. His parents, his efforts, it'd all have been in vain otherwise. But he hated leaving you behind and felt wrecked with guilt. You did your best to console him. He pretended it worked.

As you waited with him in the airport, you thought about how what a weird twist of fate it was to be the one seeing their friend off now. You hugged him and reassured him you could meet up again sometime. But with how intense his program would be, you both know that was likely impossible. The last call for his flight rang and he had to let you go. You handed him one last gift before you left him. He opened it when he sat in his seat. It was a little keychain with a small photo of the both of you. He couldn't take his eye off it the whole ride.

He still has it, and stares at it when he needs to feel something again.

Ludovic (18-21): Domestic, dependable, protective.

Roomies assigned when both your actual roommates dipped at the last second.

Ludovic started off terrible. He was in a shitty friend group that he'd followed into college just to party. He thought you were a stick in the mud and would intentionally get on your nerves a lot. He was the worst during the first semester, and you planned to ditch him as soon as housing gave you the clear.

But, after staying late studying for semester finals, as you were going back to your dorm on your car, you saw Vic being dragged away by two people. As you get closer it looked shadier and shadier.

You stopped the car and told them you were his roommate. You tried to appear friendly as you told them you'd take him back to your shared dorm. They refused, until you recognized one of them (someone Vic had brought over before) and you called her name. That makes her nervous and their bravado broke. They loaded him in the passenger seat and walked away.

He was definitely, unusually out of it.

He was a mess as you drove back home. He puked on your car. And while going up the elevator. And in your room. You had to help him change and he finally he realized who you are. He started crying about how he knew he was a shitty person, and you didn't deserve putting up with him. He was really starting to blabber about how he knew his life was spiraling with his clique, but that he felt helpless. He had no motivation to change.

It made you pause your initial opinions of him and reevaluate him. You were up all night checking on him and thinking about it as he's passed out. You couldn't help doze off after a while... and woke up feeling like you were watched. You turned around and saw him looking at you. Really looking at you. He didn't say anything, and turned around in his bed. You thought he was embarrassed and let him be, going back to your slumber.

Things changed a lot after that. He dropped his friend group, he became a bit more serious about his degree, he cleaned up after himself and... he valued you a lot more.

He had an epiphany after going through that; that he had to make better life choices. He needed more dependable people around him. Like you. He really wanted to make it up to you. A year later, he has gotten very involved in your life.

Once a week, he'd treat you to something you like, walk you to your classes when possible, and inadvertently memorize your schedule, friends, preferences, quirks.

He'd go above and beyond for you, even taking up extra chores and learning to cook things you liked in the communal kitchen. You felt guilty, like you weren't worth all this attention, but he always told you honestly that he just wanted to work on himself. And part of that was by becoming a good roommate to you. That quelled most arguments.

He's still a bit of an asshole sometimes; he likes to tease you a lot because of your inexperience to a lot of things, but he's never mean. You can finally say you're fond of him, and even look up to him for helping you whenever you were in trouble.

Meanwhile, as time went on and he had more introspection, Vic comes to terms with knowing that.. he loves you. But he's afraid. He can't trust himself anymore. He can't trust his judgment on what's right and wrong. On if he's really a good person or just pretending to be so that he can stay close to you. Against better judgement, his thoughts and urges slip into fantasies that aren't... healthy. It's a vicious cycle that feeds into his guilt, wanting to make up for it by doing something special for you, you give him a compliment that gets to his head and makes him think of more. He can't help it.

Another year, and another. Everything is great. Stuff gets lost and he makes fun of you for it. You binge watch shows and always try to eat together. Other friends you make start to drift away, but he remains your constant.

He'd follow you anywhere... it gets so domestic, anyone would mistake you for a couple already! But unfortunately, that last line is never crossed...

It's time for you to graduate. Because of certain mistakes and a lack of concentration in his classes, he isn't able to join your year. This is it. He'd been spiraling over through all of your final semester. You were leaving him.

He helps you pack, hiding the dread he feels, like his life was slipping away. He had to say something, to confess... Or... did he? Could you do long distance? Would you consider waiting for an idiot like him, still stuck in school?

He didn't want to burden you... after everything was loaded into your car, you both wavered. He joked that this wouldn't be the last of him. Next time you need a roomie, he'll zip right over. You laughed and told him you'd take him in a heartbeat.

In a heartbeat.

You drive off and he's alone, trying to tell himself he can always sneak back into your life. He's gonna graduate. He'll go after you. And even if you're in a relationship, married, or just uninterested, he'll find a way to convince you you two were perfect, and he'd claim you.

He just has to wait.

Xander (21-24): Socially awkward, weakwilled, obsessive.

A tall, gawky, nerdy guy who joined the company you work at the same time as you.

Both of you were given the same assignments so you could help each other out. Xander was super flighty, nervous and stuttered a lot when you first met him, but with you were persistent. You'd take over the reigns when he couldn't, you gently tried making him feel comfortable when he was anxious, and you encouraged him when he did things right. You were a good, sweet coworker, and the man was starstruck, feeling blessed to even be in your presence when he was such a.. screw up.

The reason for Xander's awkwardness was attributed in part, because of his fearful and overbearing parents. He was home-schooled his whole life, kept to the house and taught schooling the 'proper' way. He was told meeting kids his age would only dumb him down, and yet, he felt like he was drowning under his parent's expectations anyways. He was never as good as they wanted.

Finally, he was allowed, at least, to escape to college. He was so nervous and excited. He tried so hard, too hard, to socialize... and found out very quickly that people did not like his ticks. The people in his class thought he was annoying, and he could never get the courage to talk to anyone outside of what was mandatory. Making friends was... too hard. He was hopeless without the tools to express himself well. In the end, he couldn't make any genuine connections up until he graduated.

His dreams of being happy were crushed. He was kicked from his parent's home and felt dread, believing work would be the same kind of hell in a different form.

How lucky he was, that you were there.

You, patient, kind, funny and cool. You, who seek him out even when you're not paired up, who wants to hang out with him for lunch, and doesn't shame him when he makes a social mistake. You're the first person he can call a friend. He's ecstatic and way too overeager... subtly, without realizing at first, he's even building a shrine to you in his head.

Which slowly became into an... actual shrine.

Obsessive. He can't help himself. Overanalyzing the things you talk about, looking for ways to feel closer to you, getting into all the things you're into so you can talk about it at work, stealing your lunch when no one is around and offering his own when you cant find it, soon even coincidentally moving somewhere closer and suggesting carpooling to save on gas. It's all pretty obvious if you weren't so trustful. It's not like anyone cares, no one bats an eye. Xander can get away with it all... for now. The long looks, the extra shifts, random (offerings) gifts in your desk and his constant, looming presence.

You're perfect. There is no one else in Xander's world but you.

[ruinix]

I’ve hit you over the head with the breeding kink bat today, but I’m coming back around.

Quinn would be such a feral little fuck about it. He’d taunt you with everything he was doing. Wouldn’t be hiding from the fact that he’s trying to baby trap you. Making a big deal about how you’re stuck there. How much cum he’s fucking into you.

He’d tell you exactly where you are in your cycle. How he’s been counting, tracking. How long he’s been wanting to have you restrained under him.

All his to breed-

I might uh, be a bit off my head today

Hello, 911 ☎️ I would like to report a murder. Yes, it's this one. I saw her hit someone with a bat. She also just came back to hit that someone AGAIN. I just saw it. Oh, yes, didn't say that? It is I who got murdered. I am merely a ghost now, I fear. 👻 I must avenge myself. 🫠🤧

Whore thoughts. Smut. Dark. Baby trapping = Breeding kink. Same thing in my whore of a brain ⬇️

Quinn could only chuckle about how easily he got you used to submitting to him and being tied up, how easily he got you used to the stretch of your thighs being spread so widely and raised up until you're almost folded in half, how easily he makes you lose yourself as he fucks into you harder. He would fuck you dumb, propping your hips with two pillows until you are gushing around him. So fucking clueless on what would happen next.

He already played long game of earning every bit of your trust. For every week he fucked you with condoms after you told him you had to get off of your birth control, every week that he had to pretend that he is still sane while he takes notes when your cycle start, when it end, when you're ovulating. Oh, it fucking irked him how much cum he wasted, how much time have passed because you still have the freedom to leave him.

He can't have that.

You're not allowed to fucking leave at any point in the present or future.

While Quinn is harshly fucking your pussy, his fingers digging into the back of your thighs, he would derangely stare at you as your thighs shook, as your body arched from the bed, as his sweat drips over your skin and mixing with yours, as your lips begged him for a break. He would always give you a break, but not now.

However, he would pull away, grinning at how you sag, your eyes showing both relief and betrayal, because he knew exactly how close you were. So fuckinf greedy when you already came exactly six times when he hasn't.

That's when he would slap your pussy with his cock, making you gasp and writhe, making you recoil at the sight of the broken condom.

"Quinn, you need to change--"

He would cut you off with a darker laugh, leaning back and sitting on his ankles as he combed back his hair, staring at you with a manic look in his eyes. He was gone.

"Now, why would I do that?" He asked. "Why would I waste my cum when you're a couple of days away from ovulating? You're so fertile now, so I will fuck you until it takes, my Love."

He tore off the pathetic remains of latex, sinking his tip into your pussy, chuckling at how you were sucking him in. So fucking greedy. All while you still tried to move back, to escape.

Not like you were going anywhere. Not when you're tied to the bedframe that's bolted into the floor. Nowhere to go for you.

He would be absolutely feral with his harsh thrusts, his heart pounding at every plea and every tear, because he feels exactly how much you clench around him like you don't want him to slip out. He won't.

He would slap his palm over your thighs, over your sensitive clit, until you were coming and making a mess then he would slam into you, spurting his hot cum so deeply that you were looking at him with both fear and awe.

He knew it. You wanted his baby as much as he does. You just need to face the inevitability of it happening soon.

Not letting himself get soft, he would languidly thrust into your pussy, gritting at how his cum drips around him. Angry at the waste but he still has more to give you, so whatever. He hissed when your hips pathetically and successfully meeting his thrust.

That set him off to another frenzy, ignoring his own sensitivity. Ignoring your fresh set of tears. Ignoring the dark spots dancing on his vision.

Quinn has plans. He already got a chain that would be long enough for you to get to the rest room, an ankle shackle that is lined with soft cotton and fur that you won't get any friction burns, oils to soothe your aches when he actually needs to rest. It would be just for this week. He would be more vanilla after. He would try, at least.

Right now, he wouldn't stop.

He would fuck you until your pussy's too full that you would be dripping cum for hours or days. Until your pussy is red and raw and so utterly fucked. Until you finally reach the exact day of your ovulation. Until the next fucking day because he will not lose any fucking chance of you getting pregnant.

Because he needs you to stay with him. Forever.

In his mind, his and your baby would seal your fate with him.

Your Honor, I didn't do anything. I swear! I am the one who got killed. Two hits to my head! Oops. Good night.

-> more thoughts? List.

[houseofpsychoticwomxn]

How about mean Simon accidentally making crybaby reader cry? He was being a little too snappy and hurt her feelings :((

this is so real cuz he’d have to learn to be more gentle in general with crybaby but he still slips up sometimes when he’s frustrated <//3

you weren’t doing anything particularly wrong. just squirming in his lap trying to get comfortable while he was retuning his guitar after one of his bandmates was messing with it — completely unbeknownst to you. unfortunately your inability to sit still right that second was incredibly distracting and kept throwing him off, resulting in him putting his unfinished work down and manhandling you off of him.

“simon.” a disappointed huff of his name and a pout might’ve done the trick another time, but he was already getting impatient both with himself and you so when you moved back over to him he snatched your hands from his chest.

“can’t you see this?” he looked pointedly at the bass still in his other hand and back at you. “i’m busy. you can sit over there quietly for a fuckin’ minute or you can go do something else, i really don’t care. just give me a break already, would you?” he was snappy and cold. he knew better than to be too harsh with you, but this time he couldn’t help it. he let go of your hands to get back to work, leaning back into the couch as you shuffled your way to your bedroom.

he came in a few minutes later, having had a few minutes to relax and think through his words, placing a hand on your back to let you know he was there as you were preoccupied with crying into your pillow. you didn’t look up at him though, turning your face away from him to wipe away the mascara tinted tears while he rubbed your back.

“im sorry, okay? i was frustrated, that’s all.” he sighed as you gave him a small nod, closing your eyes to focus on your breathing like he’d talked you through so many times.

“you gonna be okay?” you sat up then, cleaning your face with the back of your hands and nodding again as the burn in the back of your throat caught up with you before you could get a word out, two big hands open and waiting for your own to join.

“that’s my girl, come here.”

[crsssie]

please? - jaime reyes x reader (nsfw warning)

Jaime pants, one brow furrowed, sweat dripping down his hair as he cages you in, lips pressed to yours feverishly, whimpering. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks you, sound of the bed creaking as he does. He's sure Khaji Da's mentioning his dopamine and endorphins levels are off the charts alongside his quickened heartbeat, but you're just so irresistible when you're whimpering his name like that. Besides, it's a great stress reliever and post-fight reward. Ugh. He pauses slightly, pushing his hair back as you exhale shakily.

"What? Tired already, mi amor?" You hum, lips quirked upward, expression changing as he thrusts into you again. 

"You're really chatty, mi vida." Jaime mumbles. "Maybe if you didn't look so good, I wouldn't stop to admire your beauty so often."

Jaime looks down as you clench on him from the compliment.

"You're such a womanizer, mi amor." You mumble. 

"Only you get to hear things like this." He hums, thumb finding your clit as he starts again, slower this time, holding you down as he forces you to feel every inch of you, eyes enamored as he watches himself disappear into you slowly, holding you down so you can't squirm.

"Jaime." You gasp. "Please."

"Please what, mi vida? You know you have to say it." He smiles cheekily.

"Harder? Please?" You try, voice coming out weak. 

"Of course." He presses a kiss to the corner of your eye. "All you had to do is ask."

and Jaime loves gently, a reminder that he was affectionate with you no matter the situation, skin pressed to yours, lips pressed to yours, fingers laced with yours— he was yours from the inside out.